


Leverage Over the Heart

by sophoklesworld



Category: Leverage
Genre: Ace!Parker, Aro!Parker, Coming Out, Episode: s04e11 The Experimental Job, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Parker is coming to terms with her sexuality, implied ot3, post season 04 episode 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:15:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophoklesworld/pseuds/sophoklesworld
Summary: She opened it, at first not comprehending what Eliot had provided her with. But after she had read every line, every sheet as carefully as a case-file, she realized she was given anidentity. A way to ease the uncertainty, pain, brokenness and sheerfear.Instead, she was filled with bone deeprelief.





	Leverage Over the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trinity12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinity12/gifts), [prismalicht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismalicht/gifts).



> This is for @shadowcat221b, as a late present for the start of drama school.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to @bunteslicht for beta-reading! Keep writing on your own story!
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: I drew [Parker looking at her folder](http://sophoklesworld.tumblr.com/post/174529217102/i-had-a-sudden-burst-of-inspiration-so-i-drew), but I can't upload it here, for some reason. I took the liberty of using these [definitions](http://itspronouncedmetrosexual.com/2013/01/a-comprehensive-list-of-lgbtq-term-definitions/).

 

"Eliot?"

Eliot lifted his head from where he was chopping onions. Parker stood in the doorway.

"Yeah, what’s up?", he asked with a smile.

At Parker’s fidgeting he narrowed his eyes. The only times Parker ever came up short on words was when it was really personal and about emotions, because she never learned how to explain and describe them. So he set his knife down and waited.

"Can we talk?", she managed, her eyes cast to the floor.

"Of course. Do you want me to make some tea?" Everything was easier with a warm cup of tea in your hands.

Parker nodded. She probably didn’t really understand the sentiment behind tea, but she had seen  him often enough, making tea, handing it to their clients.

"Sit down, I’ll be right over", Eliot said gently, and turning to prepare the tea.

When he was done, both of them sitting there with a warm cup smelling of herbs, he asked, "What’s wrong?"

 

"I don’t know", came a reluctant answer. Like she didn’t want to talk about it at all. Eliot knew that feeling - the need to talk but deflecting the moment you got the chance. He took a leap because he knew that when she didn’t take it, she’d close off. Probably for good. Like he had, once. He took that leap because he knew, in the end this would hurt Parker more than anyone else.

"Is this about Hardison?"

Surprised eyes met his and Eliot knew he was right, even though Parker didn’t nod. He suppressed a small sigh. When he spoke again, it was soft and careful.

"Parker, I don’t want you to talk about this if you’re not ready, okay?"  
"I want to talk about it!", came an exclamation, maybe a little too loud. Parker’s eyes widened in shock about her outburst, and Eliot was suddenly happy that they were home alone.

"Okay." His voice was soothing. "Okay. Then why don’t you start at the beginning?"

Parker nodded.

It was quiet for a while, Parker holding the tea cup up to her lips, mulling over what she was going to say.

"Did he tell you about pretzels?" She asked, eventually.

"No. But I think I do know what they’re about."

Again, she nodded.

"This isn’t only about Hardison", she took a deep breath. "You know, in the beginning I kissed him once, for a job. And now, at Harvard, I did it again."

Eliot didn’t interrupt her thoughts when she went quiet again.

"I don’t know what I’m feeling, Eliot." Parker sounded broken, and that broke Eliot’s heart.

"Come here." Pretending his voice didn’t just give up on him and that his eyes weren’t burning, Eliot pulled Parker into his arms.

She turned her face into his shoulder. Eliot realized that she could pretend that she wasn’t talking to anyone like this, because her words came a little easier.

"I kissed him, and I think I liked that. A lot, maybe. But there’s also this stone in my stomach. And it feels like it’s weighing me down, Eliot. I don’t like being pulled down. It scares me. But I also liked kissing him, and then he got beat up and you got in trouble and I was so scared and I don’t want to lose you, Eliot!  
"I liked kissing him and I think he liked it too, but I also think he likes it more than me, and that isn’t fair, is it? I wouldn’t _mind_ kissing him again but he _wants_ to kiss me again. And that doesn’t even make sense. Everyone always keeps talking about feelings. And Sophie taught me how to use kissing and saying these stupid things to make guys do what I want on a job, but it doesn’t work in reality! At least not for me. Like I’m- broken."

Eliot’s heart sank with every word and he held her tighter for it. "Parker, listen to me. I need you to listen, okay? You. Are. Not. Broken." With every word he tugged at her hair, trapped between her back and his arms because he couldn’t bear to let go, even though he wanted to look her in the eyes, make sure she understood. "We’re going to figure everything out, okay? But you are _not_ broken."

He thought there were tears, wetting his shirt, and a silent tremble went through Parker. And that was just wrong. Parker was Parker. And Parker didn’t cry.

So Eliot formed a plan. He didn’t want to tell her anything in uncertain terms - he didn’t know anything for sure, anyway. He wasn’t Hardison. He didn’t know these things. But he could find them out. So for now, he only held Parker tight and kept murmuring into her ear the only thing he knew for sure. _You. Are. Not. Broken_.

 

* * *

 

Eliot wasn’t stupid enough to think that Hardison wouldn’t find out what he researched. He used Hardison’s tech, after all. But he had a feeling that Hardison knew all along anyway - Hardison was so immersed in the internet and incredibly perceptive, how should he not know. Eliot only wasn’t sure why he never told Parker. Maybe because she herself hadn’t figured it out, maybe he wanted her to come talk to him, first. Eliot guessed it was a pretty big bomb to drop onto someone, if they weren’t ready. Especially because it may come off like you were trying to push them into a certain direction, to put them into a box of another label. Hardison was so empathetic, he wouldn’t even consider telling her, when she wasn’t ready.

Who knows, maybe he even already prepared a manila folder just like the one Eliot was currently putting together.

 

It took him two hours to collect everything.

Parker had cried for a little while longer and actually fallen asleep in his arms. He had carried her to bed, thanking every deity he knew that the others were staying in Provincetown for the night.

 

When he was finished he carefully set the whole folder on the bed next to Parker.

 

 

* * *

 

When Parker woke, it was still dark outside. She didn’t feel as bad anymore, but still couldn’t fall asleep again right away and felt giddy. As she tossed around on the bed, trying to get comfortable, she hit something with her arm.

  
[A manila folder](http://sophoklesworld.tumblr.com/post/174529217102/i-had-a-sudden-burst-of-inspiration-so-i-drew).

 

It must’ve been from Eliot, since he was the only other person home. Slowly, she sat up and turned on the nightstand light.

 

_For Parker_

it said.

She opened it, at first not comprehending what Eliot had provided her with. But after she had read every line, every sheet as carefully as a case-file, she realized she was given an _identity_. A way to ease the uncertainty, pain, brokenness and sheer _fear_. Instead, she was filled with bone deep _relief_.

 

There was a short note — _in Eliot’s very distinctive hand-writing_ , Parker thought with a snort —, followed by a stack of printed sheets.

 

_There’s many different sexual and romantic orientations, Parker._

_In the following, I have put a collection of some of them, with explanations, people’s experiences and own little explanations. I hope this helps you define yourself. If you don’t want to put a label on yourself, that is alright, then I hope this still helps you to understand yourself a little better. If you do find a label you like, you can tell me/us about it, or you can keep it to yourself, if that’s what you want to do. We’re all here for you, no matter what. If you have any more questions, you know where to find me._

_E_

 

There were so many things to take in, so many names - demisexual, bisexual, asexual, grey-A, aromantic, biromantic, polyamory -, so many definitions, analogies and little snippets of stories, but every word she read made Parker’s heart grow warmer and more light-headed. A knot in her stomach, she didn’t even realize had been there, seemed to dissolve. When Parker next looked up, it was already light outside - not that she saw much, because of the tears in her eyes. Angrily, she wiped at them. She hated tears, even if they were happy for once. They made the brain and the sight go hazy, reflexes go slack and lazy.

She liked the terms, some of them resonating more than others. She thought, maybe, she was able to put labels on herself, naming the monsters and stones in her chest. She liked asexuality best and maybe even aromanticism. There were feelings in her, and even though she didn’t particularly liked having them there, she wouldn’t run away from Hardison or Eliot or her team in general to get rid of the feelings — not anymore. Not after she realized she _needed_ them in her life, needed Alec, needed Eliot, after Hardison had been buried _alive_. Not after everything they’ve been through — together and for each other. It had been a scary thing to do, telling Hardison she needed him. In that moment, she just needed him to hold on, hoping her words would be enough. Afterwards, they were all left with the knowledge that she had actually uttered those words, actually admitted them and made herself vulnerable. That was the scariest part. But she knew she couldn’t run now. Because this time, she might actually hurt everyone around her as much as herself, and she couldn’t have that, because for once she really cared.

 

Slowly, after sitting there for another long while, she got up and padded into the kitchen.

 

Eliot was already there. He was filling two cups with coffee on the counter and hadn’t heard her. With deliberately loud steps, Parker entered the room.

Eliot turned around, a soft smile on his lips. Parker stopped in her tracks, suddenly not sure anymore what to do. Eliot knew — at least to some extend. He _knew_. It meant he had leverage over her. It meant she was _vulnerable_ , and it made her want to turn around on her heels, burn every single one of her fake identities and hide in a hole where he’d never find her.

It took everything in her, to just leave her feet planted solidly on the ground.

When Eliot’s expression didn’t change, when he simply said "Good morning", and turned back to the cups, like nothing unusual had happened, Parker could suddenly breathe again.

Without giving her feet the explicit order, she suddenly was in Eliot’s arms, instead of sitting into one of the chairs, like she had planned to.

Heavily breathing, she pushed her face into his shoulder, breathed in his unique scent — gunfire and farm-life in one solid wall. It was like a shelter, providing protection and a hideout.  
"Thank you", she mumbled.

Eliot squeezed her tightly, for just a second before loosening his arms again, giving her the chance to get out immediately if she wanted, so she wouldn’t feel caged.

"Always, Parker", Eliot said with a sincerity that, just for a moment, made the knot in Parker’s stomach grow heavy again.

 

She didn’t know how long they stood like this, but she eventually untangled herself from Eliot and grabbed a bowl and cereal.

Together, they sat down, recapping the info about their next job — Hardison, Sophie and Nate had driven out to Provincetown to meet a client, an LGBTQ+ activist who owned a little condo in Provincetown and stubbornly did not sell to the [Megalopyge opercularis](https://goo.gl/images/P4z27H) Organisation (short MOO), that tried to rid the town of all LGBTQ+ members.

Eliot nursed his coffee while Parker alternated between cereal and coffee (after being stared down and yelled at by Eliot who apparently didn’t approve of her cereal-in-coffee-method).

Parker had no clue, why a homophobic person would decide on Provincetown of all places, to open shop, but apparently there was no level stupidity _couldn’t_ reach. Some people weren’t able to think efficiently, it seemed. On the other hand, maybe the only motivation behind this was homophobia. Doesn’t change anything about stupidity, Eliot argued, because wherever the people were to move, it would still probably be in the States.

Parker still was glad to avoid the topic of her new found identity. She was relieved that Eliot had told her about the labels, but she didn’t want to talk about it all day, the same way she didn’t like to talk about her feelings constantly — she only ever did it when it truly grew too much. Like a dam breaking under too much pressure.

She didn’t know, if she wanted to tell him what she thought fit, or if she wanted to just pretend that this whole situation never occurred.  
On one hand, she wanted her whole team to know — because they were her team, they deserved the truth, especially Hardison. And she was so happy about having found this piece of peace, she wanted to share.

On the other hand. Eliot already knew parts of this. She didn’t know if this would be any news to Hardison. But handing any of them more ammunition didn’t sit right with her. The thought alone made her uncomfortable and looking for several escape routes.

Still, she wanted to tell them. They trusted each other with their lives and she knew, that wouldn’t change if she told them. They had always accepted her the way she was, and she wasn’t any different now, only that she could put a name to what made her different.

But she wasn’t ready to tell Eliot just yet, and she didn’t want to talk about it multiple times. She would tell them all at the same time — even if just to get it over with.

 

* * *

 

It was past noon when the others finally found their way back into the apartment.

Parker had been giddy and restless all day — with anticipation and queasiness — walking up and down the halls, playing with a ball and destroying multiple things. Eliot took it easier on her today, she realized that. And she was as grateful as she was resentful. She didn’t want to be treated differently. Then again, she did accidentally dump a whole package of salt in whatever he was cooking, so she got lucky that his only reaction was a resigned sigh.

Still, she had to flee the scene of food-murder. For a while, she hid out in the vents, but her restlessness brought her back to the living-room eventually.

 

Now, finally, everyone was here.

And everyone migrated to the couches where she was already sitting. It was like they knew, she wanted to tell them something. Everyone was greeting her, but she didn’t say a word. And maybe that was why they knew something was up.

They didn’t look at her expectantly, they never did, but Hardison glanced at her curiously.

In the end, when everyone had settled in, Parker panicked and only asked "So, what’s the con?"

 

* * *

 

Hardison knew something was wrong. Usually, Parker would’ve been all over them. She always was, after she was left to her own devices for a while. It was always obvious she missed them and was bored out of her mind, when she was alone for too long (and short enough to not start randomly robbing people and places).

She didn’t seem to want to talk, so Hardison threw Eliot questioning glances.

He only got shrugs in return, and for now, he let it slide.

While Nate launched into a detailed plan of their next con, Hardison opened some highly secured  documents (and most certainly not stolen from high high up) on his notebook that he transferred to the big screens for Nate to refer to.

Simultaneously he checked in his browser history for the commercially available facts he had found the day before, as a cross-reference. The moment he opened the history, he knew what was going on.

His jaw dropped open and he raised both eyebrows as he stared at Eliot.

He was sure, it had been Eliot, looking up these things — Parker was good with vaults and safes but she didn’t really have a hand for computers, and Hardison didn’t think she would even get the idea to check the internet for something like this.

Eliot noticed the attention, even though he had been focused on Nate. He slid his eyes over to Hardison and gave a slight nod.

Hardison gave a nod in return and got back to the topic at hand, even though his mind kept working.

 

He supposed he shouldn’t take it personal that Parker had gone to Eliot with this. And he didn’t. Not really. She would come to him in her own time and if she had needed Eliot in that moment, then Hardison was glad, Eliot had been there for her.

Hardison scanned the browser history again. Polyamory wasn’t something he had expected to be included in Eliot’s talk. But for some reason, it gave him a warm feeling that it was.

 

"Hardison!" Nate’s annoyed voice wasn’t what pulled Hardison back to the current presentation, but Eliot’s very unnecessary smack upside his head.

"Ouch! What the hell, Eliot?"

"Open the stupid financial records of what he already bought up."

"That a reason to hit me? Hurting my feelings, man, hurting my feelings!", Hardison complained, and very much didn’t open any documents. "You know how many brain cells you could've just killed, yeah? You shouldn’t do that to the man you expect to get you into buildings and turn of any alarms. Also the man who basically hacked the government for this, I might add."

"Dammit, Hardison!"

"Alright, alright! Opening the financial records now."

"It wasn’t the government, it was a government official’s account", Eliot corrected grumpily.

"Always have to drag my abilities, do you? Where would you be without me? This is the Age of the Geek, baby! You’d be nowhere without me. Nowhere."

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Hardison?" Parker knocked at the doorframe to Hardison’s room.

"Hey, Parker." Hardison’s smile was bright when he looked up from his computer.

Suppressing the urge to flee, Parker sucked in a breath and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Of course, baby girl", Hardison answered and patted the bed close to the chair he occupied.

 

Her heart beating a mile a minute, Parker made her way over and sat down. She really had planned to tell them all at once. But then it had been so _scary_. If she told them separately, she could deal with their reactions separately. And if it didn’t work out well with Hardison, maybe she wasn’t even going to tell any of the others.

 

And she decided to start with Hardison. He was the most important to know. Eliot knew already, to an extend, and he did say that he didn’t need her to give him more than that, so he would be fine for now.

Sophie and Nate were not affected by this like Hardison. And maybe she wouldn’t tell them for now — Parker didn’t know if this was like she was running from her problem or if it was simply protecting herself, but she didn’t think she was ready.

 

"What’s up?" Hardison’s voice was so gentle. Not urging, never urging. He always knew how to talk to her. It made it easier. She’d thought.

The moment Parker opened her mouth it was like choking on the words. She didn’t even know which words to _use_. This was Hardison, this was supposed to be easy! How could she tell anyone else if she couldn’t even tell him?

"Parker, breathe!" Hardison’s voice was alarmed and hand on her back, rubbing in circles. Panic closed off her airways. Tears were burning in her eyes and she felt shame and anger at herself. Hardison’s voice was still there, stayed with her. In the end, his gentle, familiar voice was the comfort taking away the edge.

"Breathe, okay? In and out. C’mon. That’s it, baby girl, that’s it."

 

When Parker’s breaths came relatively normal again, she slumped forward, curling into Hardison’s chest.

 

"You know, you don’t have to tell me things if you’re not ready, right?" And his voice was so gentle, so understanding that Parker simultaneously hated him for not pushing her, just a little, just this once, and also gave her the feeling that he already _knew_ , so what was the point in saying it out loud anyway? She still needed to say it, she knew he would never directly broach the subject if she didn’t first. And she needed for them to not treat it like a dead animal on the street, sidestepping it but never really forgetting either.

"But I want to!", she answered stubbornly.

"Okay. Okay." Slowly, Hardison pushed her up a little, his hands on her shoulders so he could look into her eyes. "I’m here to listen, alright? Take your time. Think of what you want to say."

 

Hardison let go of her but he didn’t turn back to his computer. He looked at her, patiently. The attention made Parker squirm a little and she fixed her eyes on her hands.

She didn’t know how to broach the subject, how to actually say these things out loud. The words were in her, she knew them, knew what they meant, but how did you talk about things you weren’t properly comfortable even _thinking_ about?

You didn’t — you did anything but. Her eyes locked with Hardison’s and she knew what to do. Just like Eliot had known what to do.

"I’ll be right back!", she exclaimed, a sudden grin on her face, right before jumping to her feet and barging out of the room.

 

* * *

 

The nervousness was still around Parker when she came back into Hardison’s room. Her smile washed away again by nerves.

In her hands, she held a manila folder that Hardison acknowledged with a look when she walked back to her previous position on the bed, but otherwise turned his attention back to Parker’s face.

 

* * *

 

Parker fiddled with the paper when she sat back down. She looked at it. Eliot’s "For Parker", the sheets not put together as accurate anymore, a stack of loose pages. She’d excluded the things she didn’t think described her well, this was only what made her her. She looked back up at Hardison again.

This was it. An easy way to set a difficult solution for a fundamental problem into motion.

Easy. It was easy to set down the folder next to her, easy, to push herself to the middle of the bed, easy, sitting there cross-legged.

It was hard, to keep her eyes on the folder, lying there, unguarded between her and Hardison. She felt like prey. Or maybe like a predator. A puny, pitiful predator. And the folder was the prey. And Hardison was the bigger Hulk-like predator.

It was harder, to watch Hardison reach over, his eyes flitting back to hers, making sure this was okay, as he stroke a finger across Eliot’s handwriting.

It was harder yet, to keep breathing evenly while nodding consent to something that provided names to so fundamental part of her heart. This was not what she was doing for a living but at the same time it was. She was taken leverage over, and at the same time she provided it. It was a death-match between forces, the tides and the moon. The only question was, would the moon pull the tide higher or push it lower?

The hardest part was to watch. Watch as Hardison slowly read Eliot’s note. Watch as he carefully put it aside. Watch as he went through the pages and watch him cleanly stacking every sheet next to the note when he was finished with it.

The hardest part was to watch, while Hardison did all of this, without his face betraying any of his emotions.

 

Parker didn’t speak and neither did Hardison while he read everything there was to read, every piece that was a part of Parker being laid bare.

 

When Hardison was done, he looked up, straight into her eyes. Parker’s stomach clenched together at how blank Hardison’s face looked to her.

And suddenly, there was the barest hint of a smile, a soft wrinkle around Hardison’s eyes that let all her fears recoil. They didn’t evaporate; she knew they wouldn’t for a while. It takes time to trust someone with something like this, and she would need time to adjust to the thought of it, before it was really okay.

"Parker", Hardison’s voice was gentle. "You know this is more than okay, right? This is _you_ and I am very very grateful you let me see this part of you. And I hope you know that I won’t ever push you to do things you don’t want to or are not comfortable with. I won’t ever judge you for it. It doesn’t make you a bad person, or _broken_ ", Parker winced a little at that, "No! Parker, you are _not_ broken, you hear me? You. Are. Not. Broken!" Hardison’s voice was sharp, almost vicious. It left no room for discussion. Parker looked at her hands again, and nodded. She felt the mattress dip when Hardison moved to sit down in front of her, neatly pushing the folder out of the way. His voice was softer, when he spoke next. "Remember, what my Nana used to say? 'Normal is what works for you'. It still does, Parker. It always will. And I will be here, for every step you want to take or don’t want to take. I know this was a big step for you, and you feel vulnerable. And I’m so grateful you allowed me to see this. If you don’t want to tell the others, then don’t. If you want to, I can be there with you, if that is what you want and need. I’m here, okay? No matter what."

Parker couldn’t help the tears and the bone-deep relief. When she looked back up into Hardison’s eyes, he looked as strong as ever, even though worried. But he still looked like she could lean into him, like he could hold her up no matter what. It was enough to give in and just sack into him, letting him hold her for a while.

 

* * *

 

"I want to tell Eliot."  
Hardison looked up. He had expected this. Especially because the "Polyamory" page had still been in the folder, when Parker had let him in. Even though they didn’t particularly talk about that yet.

"You want me to be there with you?"

Parker stood in the doorway, like two days ago. Only she was way more relaxed now. The folder in her hands already and maybe clasped down on it like a lifeline.

"Yes, but I wanted to ask you something first", Parker said, moving into the room and closing the door behind her.

They sat next to each other on the bed.

When she sat quietly for a few minutes, Hardison smiled at her encouragingly.

"I talked to Eliot instead of you, because it was just so much in that moment, and he was there, and — i think, in a way, he’s also part this whole thing."

"In what way?" Hardison asked lightly, even though his skin tingled in anticipation.

"He’s a part of my life, Hardison. And he’s a part of yours. I don’t know how to explain this. He’s just. A part of us, isn’t he?"

"Yeah, Parker", Hardison sighed, "yeah, he is."

"And I don’t want him to leave. I don’t think I can handle to lose him. I think I need him, maybe just as much as I need you."

Hardison bumped his shoulder into Parker’s.

"I know. I couldn’t handle losing him either. But maybe we don’t jump that on him as a proposal, alright?"  
"Don’t you think he knows, anyway?", Parker asked, indicating the folder.

Hardison grinned. "Probably. But you get comfortable first, and we slowly take one step at a time, in your pace, okay?"

Parker smiled at that and sighed, "Yeah, okay."

 

* * *

  
  
They sat Eliot down at the kitchen table.

He looked at them intently, and when Parker pushed the folder — which was now significantly thinner than when he had given it to her — his way, raised his eyebrows at her.

She gestured wildly and murmured, "This is my —" _decision_ was what she almost said, what she didn’t want to say, what she simply couldn't say. Decisions were conscious agreements of your mind and heart, the result of a longstanding debate with yourself. This wasn’t a _decision_ of how to live your life, this was something running so much deeper. So Parker ended with saying, "Me."

 

Eliot scrutinized her, as if making sure she was ready to tell him and when she didn’t move at all, just looked into his eyes, calmly, he opened the folder.

 

Swiftly, he looked at the titles of each page.

 

_Asexuality_

 

_Aromanticism_

 

_Polyamory_

  
When he looked up again, it was with a smile on his face, almost proud. Hardison put his arm around her shoulders, as they were looking at Eliot, the one who would always run an extra mile, just so they were happy. And Parker had never thought feelings could be so _simple_. But apparently, sometimes they were. Because just like that, she was happy. Happy they were all here, _together and safe_.


End file.
